Jareth
by GlassSplinter
Summary: Jareth's history. Before 'Through the Looking Glass'. A character study. OOC? You tell me. R
1. Jareth

Disclaimer: I retain all rights to everything in this story, except for anything that already belongs to the current copyright holders of the film "Labyrinth" or any official media pertaining thereof.

Jareth

Jareth was scared of his own shadow now. He cowered in the corner, even though this was his own room. He felt a feeling in his chest and face, and stopped breathing for a moment. Before he knew it, he was crying. His room didn't seem like his own. His objects didn't look like his objects anymore. All he wanted was to curl up and sleep. He wanted to sleep and sleep and never wake up, but the voice wouldn't let him. His tears gained confidence.

"There, now, Infante. You are going to be King one day. Come on, stand up." The voice said, soothing.

But Jareth didn't care. The voice was just that, a voice. In his current state, everything was just as it was, itself. He looked at his hand and saw meat on bones. Smooth elongated masses, growing from a central shape. Why was he human shaped, when he wasn't human? Would he grow up to be a goblin, just like all the other children that he knew? His tears halted. Goblins weren't so bad. They were loyal, and constant, and you could always make them do things. Goblins were Jareth sized, and he didn't have to look up at them. Not like the King. The King was tall, and thin. The King looked down on him, even when he was sitting. And the King was always sitting. He never ran up to Jareth, never picked him up. He never took Jareth walking. He always watched, though.

"Infante, now don't you feel better?" The voice started singing a low soothing melody, which Jareth found to be completely monotonous.

The only time that Jareth was free and unobserved was in the forest. The King didn't know about the forest, but Hoggle did. Hoggle was a dwarf, and he knew how to get around the Labyrinth. He was the one who showed Jareth the forest, where fairies were wild and would be so sweet for a little jam. The goblins never minded anything that Jareth did. He could kick one one day, and then the next day they would be friends again.

Life might not be fair, but at least he had his friends.


	2. Adolescence

He liked games. You could lose yourself in a game and never escape. But the game itself was an escape. The feeling of power over a person who he knew was just about to lose, who knew he was just about to lose. The satisfaction following that moment of catharsis, that this person would never bother him again, would bow to him. The beauty of his opponent's transformation captured him every time. Humans were delicate, complex, like a the wings of a Labyrinthian fairy spread in the sunlight. They surprised and delighted him, short lives blazing in front of him. Each setting could set off a different emotion, different actions could produce the same results.

Jareth liked to explore the madness of humanity. How each human appeared, after the other, with the same exact thoughts as the previous one. And no matter what Jareth did, not one ever changed. Not one human ever overcame their fear, and not one human ever went beyond their bonds. He began to play with the idea of change. How could he change the humans that he played with? What could he do to make them do things that would surprise him? To make them braver? Happier? Freer? That was the real game, the one beyond the Labyrinth. He could only win one, but he wanted it all.

And while he was winning, he could ignore the fact that he'd already lost.


	3. Flying

The King didn't know about the forest, but Hoggle did. The forest was all around the Labyrinth, filled with all sorts of wild fae. The fairies were obvious, of course. They flitted about in front of Jareth's face so densely that he couldn't see straight any more. Fairies liked to bite, too. And the wild ones bit harder and deeper than any fairy he'd met in the Labyrinth. On various nights he would return from his outing, and hurry to his chamber. There, he would summon up a crystal, trying to cover up his bite marks, so his father the King didn't notice. It always took several tries, and every try Jareth would frown anxiously, convinced that this time, the King would sense his magic and come running through the gilded door.

Jareth was not allowed to go outside the King's country. He was still a prince, who had to stay at home, protected. But this prince had no desire to be in the watchful company of the King. He felt smothered and ignored at the same time, whenever the King would grace him with his presence. The King would look at him from his throne, as he stood at a distance, the room in silence. Not even the goblins dared to laugh in front of the King, and they were laughing creatures. The King would then motion for him to leave, disapproval showing clearly in his eyes. At least, that's how it seemed to the prince. The King never actually _said_ anything, that was up to Jareth to interpret.

Jareth waited for the time when he himself would be king, when he could be cryptic and it would be allowed. He would never actually be like the King, but Jareth couldn't deny the benefits of uncertainty. He was constantly required to pick and choose his words. If something that he said was remotely inaccurate, the King would capture him in a crystal, and Jareth would sit there, wondering what horrors will be introduced to this dream next. So he spent hours in his room, practicing and imagining all the things he would say. He would pace back and forth, saying the right words, in the right tone, with the right flare. His facial expressions and body language had to be mastered too, for the King saw the possibility for improvement in everything.

Jareth tried to improve, but his efforts were flawed, or so it would seem. For now, he played with wild fae. The wild fairies were different from the ones in the Labyrinth. And not just because they tended to bite more. In the Labyrinth, the fairies would find left over scraps of food everywhere on the ground. And in the trees, and on the rooftops, discarded after a good time. The goblins weren't exactly neat. They had no need for acquiring nourishment for themselves. So when the Labyrinth's fairies bit, they bit for malice, they bit for sport.

The wild fairies survived off off the blood of the passive. They would swoop down on their plain brown wings, not at all like the iridescent wonder of the winged creatures of his homeland. For why would such a small predator want to give themselves away at such a crucial moment? They would land on a shoulder, or grab an exposed leg, and they would bite down as hard as they could, with any hope breaking off a piece of blood soaked flesh to bring to their children. Labyrinthian fairies were vain, they lived to be seen, and by seeing they lived. The wild fae were in general wilder, more primal than their Labyrinthian counterparts. In the more remote parts of the forest, fairies have been known to bite through enchanted leather. Jareth had even heard stories of their teeth breaking through metal armor. He doubted that was true, though. As long as he brought the wild ones a little jam, or honey, he could provide them with a week's supply of sugar.

In his mind, Jareth liked to imagine that he was free to say all the wrong words. He would walk through the forest for hours, with Hoggle at his side, and he would jump, and kick, and climb. He would tell lies, because he certainly _could_ tell lies to Hoggle, and he would sing songs that his childhood voice wouldn't approve of. Eventually, when Jareth learned to shift his form, he would fly through the forest like the fairies he so admired. Jareth liked the freedom of it, the magnificent splendor of the wood flying by as he moved. He would leave Hoggle by the side of a stream, and head off east, towards the Carn Mountains. This was dangerous too, he knew. His father would trap him in a crystal until he reached maturity if he knew that the sole Prince of Goblins was flying off to a foreign kingdom.

But Carn was allied with the Labyrinth, and had been for decades. There was no danger for him there, only the wonder of the snowy mountain tops as they shone pink in the sun. When their brightness got too be too much for his owl's eyes, he would return to the stream, telling Hoggle of al the sights he had seen. They would trudge back to the Labyrinth, Jareth's feet heavy after the flight, and he would sneak home, leaving Hoggle at his house in Goblin City.


End file.
